


Certainties

by Glasswing



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Junkrat Screws Up Big Time, M/M, Passing NSFW Mention, Rat's Scared Of Roadhog, Rattie is an Idiot (as Usual), Something sort of funnier than last time? A bit? At least?, copious swearing, i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glasswing/pseuds/Glasswing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat hasn't a clue what he's done to piss off 'Hog, but at least, in this world, there are some certainties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certainties

Here they were again.

The first thing Jamison Fawkes did in this sort of situation was check for certainties. Ground himself in fact, not guesswork. That kept his mind in check - or, at least, as close as it could get.

Certainty number one, the most immediate of them all, was the fact that Roadhog had one great hand around his neck. Easy enough.

Similarly, certainty number two was that he was dangling a foot off the floor. Maybe more. It was hard to tell.

Number three was that Hog was staring at him.

And that was where it fizzled out.

Being held like this was nothing new, per se, but the nature of Hog's mask and the power of his silence made its reasoning much more difficult. The reason was the crucial part - to know what he could get away with, whether it was a good idea to struggle, that sort of thing. He wasn’t making _that_ mistake again.

Scenario one: Junkrat had been talking for far too long and far too loud, and this was the best way to silence him. Usual enough. Often it was just a warning squeeze, a huff of annoyance, and Jamie being dropped rather unceremoniously to the floor.

It had been a little too long for that.

Scenario two: They were- well, it disproved itself, really. The other most common time that Jamison found that hand around his neck was when they fucked, and that certainly wasn't happening now.

Shame.

Scenario three: Rat had finally, _finally_ fucked up so badly that Hog was actually going to kill him.

Judging by the angry growl, that would explain a lot.

"You broke my bike."

_...Oh._

He had only been tinkering with it, in all fairness, watching the rumble of the engine when he tweaked and span things this way and that. He had always been fascinated by the machine. It was interesting.

He hadn't meant to be caught red-handed. Roadhog had returned to see him in the middle of the act, like a child with sticky fingers in the cookie jar. He hadn't had time to put it back together.

_Well, fuck._

Jamison was suddenly greeted by the very visceral image of that great hand snapping his neck like a twig. He wasn’t keen on the idea.

"Got anythin’ ta say?"

“Hog, H-Hoggy, I, ah, ya won’t get yer fifty if I’m... _dead_ , mate-”

Another growl of fury rumbled through the mask. “It’d be _worth it..._!”

Pulled a little higher. A tightening of grip.

“Gimme _one good reason_ why you get ta live, _Rat_.”

_Wait- shit-!_

It finally registered in Junkrat's head that he _needed_ _to breathe_ and he spluttered, kicking mismatched legs and clawing at Hog's hand. It did not bring him air. The hand did not relent.

"I- I'm-"

"You're _what_?"

He scrunched golden eyes shut, then, as if it would help. It didn't. With the last of his breath he choked out his words, feeling the world grow numb and distant and-

"I'm- _ack_ \- sorry...!"

A rumbling chuckle.

He coughed and gasped and heaved for air when he was dropped from Roadhog's hold. He collapsed to the ground, hands and knees on burning sand, colour returning to the endless wastes.

"That's new."

His last shreds of dignity were in tatters, scattered like shrapnel along with his pride. He wondered if his lunch would join it. The sun’s light was blocked from him as Roadhog loomed over, watching, waiting. In this light, the mask made him look like a vulture - not circling his prey, only watching.

Always _watching._

After a bare moment to recover, he heard Mako move again. Closer. Silent. Jamison didn't have the energy to fight back as the spike of Hog's boot nudged at his side. He was rolled, quite easily, onto his back, letting out a soft “oof”.

He gave another heave for air as that same boot was pressed to his chest.

_I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna die_

The menacing mask was there, much too close to his face, Hog's eyes unseen behind the glass-

"Fix it, _Jamison_."

He could only nod, both hands clutching desperately at Mako's ankle. He knew he didn’t have the strength to fight the huge man off - he never had. That was why he had hired him. When there was no response, he nodded again - faster this time - and a little whimper of fear escaped his lips.

That dark chuckle again. The mask's snout pressed to his nose, in a mocking kiss.

_"Good boy."_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism would be appreciated. I hope you enjoyed my writing! Love you, readers! <3


End file.
